


Furious Angels

by Shirimikaze



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, I won't tag everything to avoid spoilers, M/M, Memory Loss, Pickpockets, Sad Ending, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirimikaze/pseuds/Shirimikaze
Summary: Jinyoung is a wandering pickpocket with no roof above his head except the shroud of stars that observed his every desperate step, and no destination except the source of the overwhelming gap in his memories.





	Furious Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daedalus (sambaenim)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=daedalus+%28sambaenim%29).



_Furious angels will bring you back to me._

 

Overcast and placid; clouds coalesced together in a shapeless grey shroud which embraced the city. Gentle winds slightly rustled the leaves still hanging onto branches stretching above pavements and streets, fortunately never quite sharp enough to unpleasantly bite into the skin of passers-by. 

Amidst the unperturbed stream of people absorbed in their daily motions, two figures bumped into each other on a crosswalk near the city centre. A man of middle age snapped away from his reverie, looking over his shoulder, the shoulder another pedestrian bumped into, with his eyebrows scrunched in annoyance and reprimands sat ready on his tongue.

He was met by the wide-eyed gaze of a young boy. “I’m so sorry!” the boy apologized with regret threading through his voice, “It wasn’t deliberate!”

The man’s demeanour softened, reprimands dissipated and forgotten. The clutter of people on the crosswalk was quickly dispersing, causing the two figures to separate without any more words to exchange, each going their own way.

It was once this man arrived in a shop a few blocks away that his hands began roaming through his coat, fingers frantically searching every pocket. Instead of relief, in the bottom of a pocket what he found was a simple epiphany – his wallet had disappeared.

 

 

Leaning on the bared bricks of a back alley wall, Jinyoung took in deep, liberating lungfuls of air while rummaging the wallet that was now in his possession. The first impression was enough to make his eyes widen in surprise; the feeling of his fingers brushing against a remarkable number of bills was as exhilarating as it was rare. He had struck a gold mine.

 

 

“A single room, just for tonight.”

The wallpaper in the motel lobby had long started peeling at the edges. While letting his gaze roam through the space, Jinyoung managed to even notice a cigarette burn on the wall near the vending machine by the entrance. Coming from the old radio placed on one end of the reception desk, the music languidly filling the lobby occasionally skipped.

Jinyoung’s short-lived daze was interrupted by the receptionist handing him a key with curt directions to his room. Climbing the stairs with no rush to tense his frame, he couldn’t stifle the satisfaction that lifted a corner of his lips up in a smile. Affording a motel room was a rare luxury to be savoured. Vague calculations floating through his mind deduced that he’d have enough money left for a train ticket as well. He hoped the luck resting on his shoulders could remain for a while longer.

He had been staying in one place for too long. Word was on the street of a pickpocket roaming neighbourhoods with a more affluential populace. The fear of a police search was lurking at the back of Jinyoung’s mind, but it got hazier by the minute. This time he could probably afford to travel farther than usual, a few bigger cities over maybe.

Jinyoung turned the shower tap till he could feel the steam cling to his skin. On that night he even found it in himself to lightly hum along the sound of droplets hitting the tiled floor. The melody spilling past his lips was familiar, yet he couldn’t put a name to it. He revelled in the sensation of a warm shower for as long as he could, well-aware he might not get a similar chance soon.

The mattress of the single motel room bed was the slightest bit clumpy, the duvet was a tad too thin for the shifting weather unfurling outside, yet to a wanderer without much more than a name in his possession, sleep came light and sweet.

 

 

_Every few minutes, the fluorescent light bulb overhead flickered for the most short-lived of moments. The glow it cast upon the white tiles of the walls was almost ghastly._

 

 

When the morning crawled in through the scratched windows and illuminated all the cracks in the hallway paint, both notable and subtle, a loud knock could be heard coming from down the hallway of the motel’s second floor.

“Police, open up!” a firm, raspy voice demanded between rough knocks to the chipped wooden door. A brief silence was left to wait to be filled by a reply, a sound, anything to come from inside the room, but nothing of the sort ever arrived. It was then that the officer with the gravelly voice that had been knocking signalled to his partner standing close behind, and the two took a few coordinated steps away from the door.

The sound of wood being torn off its hinges was unpleasantly loud for such an early point of the day. Making their way inside with a rough shove, they had their guns pointed ahead while precariously approaching the single bed in the small room. One glance was sufficient to conclude that the place had been cleared of any presence. The bed sheets were, albeit haphazardly, made up and tucked, and no personal belongings were in sight.

One of the officers let out an agitated sigh while holstering his gun. “He’s gone already.”

 

 

The window of the carriage was lowered just enough for Jinyoung to comfortably prop himself on his elbows and calmly observe the shades of countryside life stretching before him. He could notice the way fields gradually made way to a more mountainous landscape, forests and hills gracing one’s sight in every direction. The train was lightly shaking from side to side. Jinyoung’s eyes were soaking in all the views flashing before him, but his thoughts were in a separate plane of existence entirely.

It had happened again last night.

Some nights, his sleep was but a short-lived empty serenity. Yet, more often than not, his unconscious hours were filled with images he didn’t know the meaning of. In that motel room Jinyoung had been visited by fleeting visions of sterile white walls and flickering fluorescent lighting.

There was nothing inherently eerie about the imagery, yet, for some unbeknownst to Jinyoung reason, it made a faint feeling of unease coil low in his stomach. Even during moments like this, where he was awake and aware, merely attempting to recollect the images as vividly as possible, sometimes a subdued chill dashed down the back of his neck.

On some nights, there wasn’t even any imagery to accompany Jinyoung’s dreams; some nights, all he remembered after waking up was a voice. It sang to him, it spoke to him in melodies that were nothing short of enthralling, and Jinyoung was left wanting for more when he could never recall more than a few seconds of its song at a time. Yet so, even that beauty left Jinyoung with the exact same eerie sensation nestled in his body that every single one of his dreams invoked in him.

There must’ve been a pattern to all of it. There must’ve been a key to all of it, a reason why it all haunted him, but alas, regardless of how far Jinyoung attempted to rummage through his mind, he only arrived to a dull headache and disappointment that left the taste of bitterness linger at the back of his throat.

In the distance, Jinyoung could hear the train conductor shout out that approximately twenty minutes separated the train from its next stop. The outer window of the carriage gave out a customary screech while Jinyoung pulled it shut. He headed back to his seat to indulge in the rest of his travel away from complicated thoughts.

What made this vital conundrum needlessly tangled were the painfully glaring faults in Jinyoung’s memories. It’s like his own mind was dead set on taunting him; he could clearly recall events from his childhood, but nothing at all from between his early teens and his present ever spawned in his head. Memories were scarce, never quite spanning beyond his life as a wanderer, and he felt as if a chunk of his identity was missing.

All Jinyoung had left to do was to chase. He carried on as an outcast, switching locations frequently, teetering on the edge of life, if only for the sheer purpose of piecing back together memories that were no longer his.

 

 

A loud whistle announcing arrival sent Jinyoung off. His first step on the train station platform was heavy and loud. A mere day had made a difference in the weather; the concrete paving his new destination was heated, stung by the sunrays that had fought their way out from beneath the recent cloudy shroud.

Noon found Jinyoung at a new city, and he had all the time in the world to explore his temporary residence.

 

 

_Pale skin was mapped by dull-coloured bruises and scars of various sizes; a map that didn’t lead to fortune of any kind._

 

 

The staccato of a pebble jumping on the pavement was short-lived. Jinyoung merely kicked it ahead again. The crumpled edge of a map of the city was peeking out from his pocket.

He’d been crossing boulevards and crossroads, acquainting himself with the environment. His eyes had flitted through buildings, streets, and layouts, his mind had seen escape routes, sanctuaries, and possible hurdles. There were precautions that needed to be taken. Habits like this were built over time riddled with experience and blunders; misfortune is the strictest teacher.

His legs had taken him across various neighbourhoods, big and small, rich and poor, those bustling with life and those sleeping serenely. At some point, maybe Jinyoung’s goal had changed from familiarizing himself with the town to simply killing time he wish he didn’t have. Either way, he simply kept walking.

On one of the smaller streets, Jinyoung passed by a bunch of toddlers playing tag with loud laughter following their every step. It occurred to Jinyoung he didn’t really know the rules of many group games like that, if any at all. The carefree laughter of the children lingered in his mind for a while longer after he walked away from that street.

While ambling through a quiet part of the suburbs in the last afternoon, the shrill sound of a siren pierced Jinyoung’s senses. He swiftly turned towards the direction of the sound, and once he discerned that its source was coming closer, his self-defence mechanisms abruptly took over to lead him to the nearest alley.

When a police car sped down the street Jinyoung had been strolling on mere seconds ago and the grating sound of the siren gradually began fading, Jinyoung realized his reaction had been silly. There was no way the authorities from a few cities over would’ve taken the time of day to spread the word about a mere pickpocket; surely he couldn’t had been sought after in that town. He tried shaking off any lingering stress while coming out of the alley.

As Jinyoung continued walking down the street, the sound of the police siren was dull and distant, but it never quite stopped. It felt as if Jinyoung was approaching it again. A reckless curiosity thrummed beneath his skin. The chain of dangerous situations he had gotten himself into throughout the months had slowly desensitized him, silencing the angel on his shoulder that should had advised him against keeping close to risk. The sound of the siren drew him in deeper into the neighbourhood.

When merely a few corners separated him from the scene unfolding, it quickly clicked. The screams, the suffocating stench of smog, and the fire truck that sped past Jinyoung a short while later all painted the picture in his head. Yet, as he rounded the last corner, any and all expectations turned to ash.

Jinyoung’s eyes soaked in the exact sight he had imagined he’d get to see. A building, seemingly an old construction, was billowing flames and smoke from its shattered windows. The sirens of all the emergency vehicles were unbearable. The sounds of civilians weeping in front of the flaming sight – deafening.

It was just what Jinyoung had imagined to find, yet no expectations could had mapped out the chills which cascaded down his spine, lancing through his entire body. He was staring at the tongues of fire lapping farther up the old building with pupils blown wide and a jaw set in intense unease. A profound, primal kind of fear set his every muscle ablaze; he absent-mindedly stepped back with small, spasmodic steps while still staring in profound horror, until the weight of his fear tipped him in the opposite direction.

Jinyoung ran. He ran without a direction, without a coherent thought on his mind, without a single sense of his not coiled in distress. He madly dashed through the suburbs, as fast as his legs could afford to go, until he saw a bus slowly approaching a small rusted stop at the end of a desolate street. Not even the vaguest clue of where it could be headed to occurred to Jinyoung, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything in that state. All he needed was to get away.

The driver and the few passengers threw him worried glances when he all but barraged inside the bus. Jinyoung chose a seat at the far back, in the middle, as far away from the windows as he could manage to be. He relied on the bumps on the streets and the rumbles of the bus to hide the uneasy tremors of his body.

 

 

_A wide cupboard harboured many tiny bottles placed in neat lines. The only difference between them were the tiny labels wrapped around each one, messy scrawls written in pen denoting their purposes. For objects so tiny, the stench of their contents was surprisingly foul._

 

 

The bus drove out of town. The rich countryside greenery surrounded Jinyoung once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to admire it again. Once the burst of adrenalin gradually wore off, Jinyoung’s muscles protested in sharp pickles of pain. His sense of time had been thrown off kilter, but if he had had to make an assumption, he would had guessed the ride was nearly an hour long.

The route ended in a village Jinyoung didn’t know the name of. The map he had been carrying had fallen out of his pockets during his run. When the driver ushered him off alongside the remaining passengers, he was surrounded by unfamiliarity. He was back at square one.

In the distant outskirts, where the streets had no name, Jinyoung finally felt like he could breathe. The sensation of his lungs burning still lingered. He went to lean on the wall of the nearest house to rest for a short while. Hands on his knees, heaving deeply, he simply channelled all his focus on regaining his composure.

At some point, he pushed himself off the wall of the building he was leaning on and slowly began ambling down the unfamiliar street his legs had taken him to. With each next step the light nausea from the unexpected strain and the hunger that was trying to disturb him were becoming easier to ignore.

Small houses surrounded his path on either side. Ivy vines were crawling up fences and multi-coloured walls. Many a tile on the roofs were either tilted or a tad chipped at the ends. The glamour of the city was left many kilometres behind Jinyoung’s back.

As his eyes were aimlessly straying from side to side, he had glanced into the yard of one of the houses, where one of the residents had hung meat to dry. It wasn’t a rare practice for fall, when hints of cold were slowly bleeding into the weather; yet even the most mundane culinary practice could’ve effortlessly made Jinyoung’s stomach grumble in dissent at that moment, where exhaustion was beginning to kick in harder with each next corner he rounded.

The setting sun came with desperation. Drawing closer to the fence, he looked in every possible direction to confirm there was no soul nearby to witness his audacity. He swung a leg over the flimsy metal bars surrounding the yard. With one swift movement and a dull thud he found himself inside the property.

Courtesy of the measly resources he took for himself, Jinyoung could count the number of times he’d had meat in recent memory on one hand. He haphazardly unhooked the pieces of dry sausage off the bar they were hung on, hunger steadily drowning out guilt.

An unpleasantly sharp metallic sound made Jinyoung freeze in his spot. A tell-tale sound he never wished to hear in such close proximity, yet as he slowly turned around to face the source, the unpleasant feeling lodged in his throat turned out to be correct – a shotgun being loaded.

“Bad luck tonight, kid,” a deep voice declared. ”You chose the wrong people to steal from.”

A well-built man in casual clothing stood in front of Jinyoung. His gun let to the conclusion that he was most likely a hunter. His gaze was sharp and cold, even unrelenting with the way it was locked on Jinyoung’s scrawny frame.

It didn’t take long for Jinyoung to weigh his options. With downcast eyes he began hanging the sausages back where he took them from, movements as slow as needed to convey peaceful intentions, yet antsy enough to reflect the weight of the barrel aimed at him.

Once he returned all that he had grabbed, Jinyoung took a few measured steps back. The man’s gaze hadn’t softened when faced with compliance, yet oddly, Jinyoung felt his nervousness subside. The worst case development he could predict was a bullet tearing through his ribcage, and in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t seem like such a loss. He didn’t have much more than questions to hold onto. He looked into the gun’s barrel with hazy curiosity, posture slack.

Without losing sight of Jinyoung or lowering his gun, the hunter cocked his head towards the shed in the corner of his yard without more instructions to offer than a curt, “There’s firewood in there that needs to be taken out.”

The implications weren’t subtle. Jinyoung trudged towards the shed, and with one armful of thin logs at a time, slowly made trips from there to the front of the house. The hunter had set his gun down, opting to simply observe while leaning on the fence of the yard.

Amidst his third or fourth trail, Jinyoung heard the question, “What’s your name, kid?”

“Jinyoung.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Ain’t that a bit too old for petty theft?”

Jinyoung’s reply was a cynical huff, “Then I’m not only old, also desperate.” That put a halt to the conversation, allowing Jinyoung to silently carry on with the demand.

At some point amidst Jinyoung’s work, the man wordlessly went inside his house and left Jinyoung alone in the yard. The boy merely continued his task, not deeming that as a valid sign to stop. A dry chuckle pried its way out of Jinyoung’s lips. The realisation that there wasn’t any solid reason for him to stay there in that yard was vaguely amusing. That lack of a reason seemed a more attractive alternative than the lack of a direction and shelter for the night anyway.

“Hey, kid.” Jinyoung turned around just in time for his reflexes to kick in and grab whatever was tossed at him. His fingers latched onto something soft, and he realised the hunter had thrown a piece of bread at him, still warm. The man leaned back on the fence at the same spot, observing Jinyoung hungrily tearing the food apart.

“Do you have anywhere to go, kid?” the man asked.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Once the bread in Jinyoung’s hands became nothing more than a memory and a few crumbs stuck to his shirt, the hunter reached out a hand at him to help him stand up. “My name is Junho,” he said, vaguely amused by the awe-struck expression with which Jinyoung was staring up at him with, “Lee Junho. Help me out with a few more chores around the garden and then we’ll go in for dinner when my wife is done with the stew.”

 

 

_Beneath sickly pale skin, a painful mix of blood, electricity, and disappointment surged._

 

 

Junho’s wife was a beautiful woman named Soonkyu. Jinyoung was a bit in awe of the way she took everything in stride; her husband had all but shoved an unknown boy inside their house with the declaration that said boy would be joining them for dinner, and she simply took out a third plate with a comforting smile resting on her lips. They gave off the impression of a loving couple.

With the sun far gone beyond the blind horizon, the family decided to shelter Jinyoung beneath their humble roof for the night. Following dinner, Soonkyu asked of Jinyoung to follow her to what she referred to as their spare room. Guilt of being unable to repay this hospitality in any proper way made Jinyoung’s head hang low, yet exhaustion pushed him forward in his every step as he silently walked behind the woman. The worries of selfishness were easily toppled by the desire to once more take a rest somewhere safe and warm.

With the creek of a wooden door opening, Jinyoung let his gaze roam.

The room wasn’t big, but it more than compensated for its size with a warm welcoming vibe. Jinyoung didn’t have many experience whatsoever with domestic environments, but even he vaguely wondered if every guest room was this cosy.

 “When was the last time you experienced the comfort of a home?” Sookyu asked while observing Jinyoung able about the room in curiosity, though her voice carried a sad tinge that contrasted the fondness of her gaze.

Jinyoung’s eyes were taking in each detail they stumbled upon while looking over the furnishing and decorations. “Would you believe me if I told you I can’t remember?” he replied without sparing Soonkyu a glance.

His attention had been effortlessly lured by a shelf on the wall opposite the bed, on which a couple of small wooden boxes were lined. The carpentry was simply beautiful; etched into the surfaces of each and every box were subtle lines that twisted together to shape distinct patterns.

Slender fingers curiously traced the edges of one of the small boxes until they touched a small metal key and the epiphany befell Jinyoung – they were music boxes. He gently turned the metal key of the box beneath his touch, curiosity yearning for the sound it would produce; his mind simply wouldn’t stop gravitating towards that thought until he heard it. When he stopped winding the small metal key and let go of the box, the room dipped into silence for a few short-lived seconds before the first tone came to life.

It was a beautiful sound, Jinyoung could tell. It gently trickled down the shelf the box stood on, filling the entire room with a profound kind of softness. Yet, alongside the first tone, Jinyoung’s eyes had widened in surprise. A cascade of emotions began swirling in his eyes, as well as in the depths of his chest – sadness, anger, longing coalesced into a heavy burden inside Jinyoung’s body – but most prominent of all was prime, unadulterated fear.

A loud thud resounded in the small space. Jinyoung’s legs had folded beneath him, his knees painfully hitting the old wooden floorboards as he collapsed in a fit of shallow breaths and stinging tears. He tried to keep himself upright despite the sobs that were making his thin frame shake uncontrollably. The music box carried on with its soft melody that accompanied Jinyoung’s miserable cries as a sick joke.

The sense of time had escaped Jinyoung, whose mind was only trying to shoulder the immense grief that had suddenly bubbled within him as the music box had begun playing. He had no clue how long he had been on the floor for. But at some point amidst his inconsolable disconnection from the world around him, a pair of arms had wrapped around him.

“It’s okay,” Soonkyu assured him with a soothing voice, “it’s all going to be okay,” she repeated, and held him in her arms until his sobs subsided.

A profound kind of devastation set his every sense ablaze. It felt suffocating, just like a dream.

 

 

_The sound of a pen scribbling long, sophisticated lines atop a clipboard mingled with the buzzing of the fluorescent light as it lazily blinked, as well as with the aching gasps for breath bouncing between the walls._

 

 

A hand found firm purchase on Jinyoung’s shoulder. “Aim carefully, take the wind in mind,” Junho instructed in a whisper.

Jinyoung squinted in concentration at the partridge ambling about the tiny meadow stretched in front of him. The pressure his finger applied on the trigger gradually increased until the exact point in time the bird stood still. A gunshot shook the vicinity, closely followed by a high-pitched wail.

“Good job, my boy,” Junho praised with a pat on Jinyoung’s back, and Jinyoung sheepishly smiled at the pride in the hunter’s voice. “You got the hang of this quite quickly,” Junho stated while the two of them headed to collect their catch for the day.

The boy didn’t have the heart to admit that silent swiftness is a skill he’d nurtured through pick-pocketing; maybe Junho could connect the dots himself. Either way, the lack of prying was appreciated. The two simply indulge in idle chatter on the way home.

Jinyoung had been living in the Lee household for a few months now.

The boy’s complexion had become healthier. The days of scarce meals and sleeping under the open sky were far behind him. Junho and Seonkyu had been treating him like they would a son. In exchange, Jinyoung helped around with various chores, both laborious and menial. Days were free of the strain of surviving alone; days were peaceful.

Jinyoung had started anew and his life on the streets didn’t seem like much more than the ghost of a fever dream anymore. He had something, someone to live for now.

 

 

 

_Jinyoung’s hand was being tickled by soft blades of grass. He was lying outdoors._

_He was tired, almost too tired to keep his eyes open, but the faint feeling of light wind stroking his skin kept him from unraveling entirely. Through heavy eyelids he managed to notice the leaves of a tree looking down at him. The epiphany that he wasn’t enclosed in sterile white walls was vaguely relieving._

_No sound reached Jinyoung; merely the feeling of an elegant hand threading his hair in a soothing manner. His head was rested in someone’s lap. He wanted to close his eyes and melt into the touch, but exhaustion most likely wouldn’t had let him open them again afterwards._

_When Jinyoung attempted to shift his head to be able to steal a glance at the person who was offering him so much serenity, the gentle hand trailed downwards to cover his eyes._

 

The thin cotton curtains did little to protect the small bedroom from the morning sunrays’ invasion.

It felt bitter. Jinyoung knew that no matter how long he kept his eyes closed after waking up, he wouldn’t be able to dive back into his dreams, back to the exact point at which he’d been abandoned clueless in the waking world, yet he stubbornly remained in bed for a while longer regardless.

Jinyoung was overly conscious of the exact spot on his face that smooth hand had rested on. When he reached towards it, however, he found nothing more than fresh remnants of tears he hadn’t remembered spilling.

 

 

 

If a few months prior somebody had told Jinyoung that he’d become remarkably deft with gardening tools, he would had scoffed, yet fate found him hunched over a tuft of petunias, gently planting them one by one.

“Be careful with the roots, they’re tender,” Soonkyu softly warned while tending to a cluster of petunias a few feet away.

Every part of the Lee household’s yard that wasn’t occupied by vegetable patches was utilized for aesthetic purposes. Flowers of various colours, shades and textures shaped a vivid miniature wilderness. Alongside a hefty portion of the vegetables, Soonkyu also sold some of the flowers to the vendors at the local market. The rest were left to please the sight either in the garden or in petite vases placed in every room of the house.

(Through laughter Soonkyu shared with Jinyoung that when her husband was being stubborn about something, she occasionally felt petty enough to provoke his allergies with a pot of daisies conveniently placed on their bedroom windowsill. “But you didn’t hear that from me,” she finished with a wink.)

Jinyoung had become a semi-permanent fixture in the yard, always helping out with something at any given point. He had even become adept enough that he’d been given leeway to plant flowers of his own choice. “Taking care of plants builds up a sense of responsibility,” Soonkyu had explained while giving him an array of seeds to pick from.

Jinyoung watched Soonkyu water various parts of the garden with the hose while he was settling his petunias into their new beds. When she reached the tuft of carnations in the far edge of the garden, ripples appeared in his thoughts. She had allowed him access to any and every plant on the premises sans the white carnations.

Jinyoung could tell they were special; around the end of each month, he could notice a bunch of them cut off, just enough to form a bouquet. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, wrap his head around a reason. He hadn’t seen them sold at the market, either.

When Soonkyu was done watering the flowers, she turned back, catching Jinyoung’s gaze. “What’re you so deep in thought about?” she asked while putting the hose away.

“Nothing,” Jinyoung replied after a moment of consideration, burying his questions alongside the petunia roots.

 

 

 

“Good night,” Jinyoung called out from the threshold of (what was now) his room before closing the door behind himself.

He plopped on the edge of his bed with a sigh. The night light was flicked on with the sole purpose of ushering sleep away for the time being. It was a stupid thought, deeming that keeping himself awake could stave off the suffocating dreams. But some days Jinyoung really didn’t want to deal with anything, much less with himself.

The lamp near Jinyoung’s bed managed to cast a faint veil of light on the shelf with music boxes. A faint creak of the bed preceded Jinyoung’s slow steps towards the shelf. After his breakdown he had been asked if he’d prefer the music boxes to be moved to another room, but he had insisted to keep them. They were the reluctant reminder that he still had much to learn. He let his fingers roam once more.

Jinyoung questioned if searching for answers was even worth it anymore. The glaring gap in his memories made him feel like half a man. But the circumstances had changed. He now had something more than a scavenger hunt to welcome each new morning for. He now had a family. And that meant plenty of opportunities to create new memories.

As Jinyoung’s gaze traced the edges of the music box he had played, obscure recollections of an unknown voice poured into his consciousness.

Jinyoung retracted his touch from the tiny box and quickly crossed the few steps that separated him from his bed.

 

 

_“I’m sorry.”_

 

 

It was early. Too early for comfort. Jinyoung blinked up at the ceiling above his bed with great displeasure, vaguely aware that petulance wasn’t going to draw his sleep back, but too tired to care much.

Dreams acted according to their own whims and patterns, utterly mysterious to man. Jinyoung had accepted his occasional abrupt awakenings as simply another shade of life he couldn’t change. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed, welcoming the morning on wobbly feet.

He approached the window, hoping the sunlight would smite away any lingering sleepiness. He didn’t expect to see any movement outside aside from the occasional stray cat loitering nearby, but a figure in the garden caught his eyes. He intently observed Soonkyu tying together a bouquet of carnations, donned in a formal black coat he hadn’t seen on her before. It wasn’t long before she was done, heading out the garden and onto the street.

Jinyoung could feel it again, simmering right beneath his skin. That reckless curiosity.

With remarkable swiftness he threw on the first pair of clothes to grace his sight and dashed out of the house in the direction he had seen Soonkyu take. With quietness he had cultivated through experience, he followed after her just far enough to avoid luring attention of any sort.

Her path was long. The village might not had been of notable size, but it was unusual how she had to cross over half of it to reach her destination.

Near the end of their journey, where cracked asphalt roads thinned out and carried on as beaten paths of dirt and grass, the epiphany befell Jinyoung. The only location in that direction was the village graveyard.

Remaining hidden behind the trunk of a large oak tree, Jinyoung observed Soonkyu walk sombre between gravestones of various size, shape, and state. The one she stopped in front of seemed rather plain, but well-kept, not yet tilted by the tides of time. She slowly dropped to her knees, neatly placing the bouquet of carnations in front. She began speaking, possibly addressing whoever rested beneath the flowers, but Jinyoung couldn’t hear a single word from such a distance. Maybe it had been for the better not to intrude on a private moment like that.

Jinyoung was surprised by the fact that it didn’t take Soonkyu long to reach the end of her visit. Soon enough, she stood up, sauntering back on the same path, albeit with a shakier stride, perhaps emotions weighing down on her.

He waited for her to disappear beyond the many trees the graveyard was huddled between, for her to disappear far beyond the horizon before he came out from his hiding spot and approached the same gravestone. Ghosts of doubts were rebelling inside him, wondering if it was reasonable to meddle into something like this, but if he had gone this far just to retreat at the last moment, the thought would had gnawed on him for many days to come.

With languid steps Jinyoung approached, and when he was close enough to read the name etched on the gravestone, he fell to his knees in front of the vivid carnations.

 

 

_It was fall and Jinyoung’s cell was getting a bit colder with each passing day._

_With each lash of the wind outside, it was as if summer’s slow death could be felt more and more._

_It was no wonder how Jinyoung could notice the subtle changes in the season with overwhelming clarity. Spending time in isolation had a remarkable effect on one’s perception; the pace at which anything and everything passed was languid, agitating, maddening._

_The isolation cell wasn’t spacious. It merely had enough room to fit a single gurney that played the role of a bed. The fluorescent light bulb overhead was nearing its last flickers of life, as hinted by its occasional tired blinks. It gave the white walls and white floor a near sickly yellowish tint._

_Jinyoung was lying in bed, gaze stuck to the veiling as if some pattern could magically manifest on the plain surface if he stared with enough intent. Not even his mind could do much to busy him as there wasn’t much remaining to think of. All that was left in that tiny room was to lie idle and wait._

_Amidst the deafening silence, Jinyoung heard the door to his cell creak open._

_That grating sound of old hinges was associated with two things. The first was the itinerary visit of an employee with the sole purpose of leaving a tray of stale food in the cell. The second case, which Jinyoung expected while he kept his gaze aimed at the ceiling in resignation, was a regularly scheduled joke that fate cruelly liked to play._

_The door opened to reveal two men in white uniforms. With the first of them Jinyoung was just as familiar as he was utterly sick of; an old doctor with as much emotion gracing his features as the patternless ceiling Jinyoung had been forced to live with. The second one, however, was a young man who Jinyoung hadn’t encountered previously in the facility. The way the nurse uniform hung off his frame as if it was a size or two too big on him led to the conclusion that he must’ve been a last-minute substitute, an intern, or simply a new addition to the staff._

_The doctor didn’t even spare Jinyoung a glance as he flipped through the papers on the clipboard in his hands. He nudged the new nurse before he began reading with a deadpan voice, “Patient number 113, Bae Jinyoung. Diagnosis: sexual pathology.”_

_It was a while since Jinyoung had heard that out loud, the dry chuckle that came from him was pure reflex. The doctor paid him no heed. He mumbled a few more lines under his breath before setting back the papers on the clipboard and turning to the nurse by his side. “I’ll be leaving this to you since I have other matters to tend to, nurse Lee. Immobilise the patient and administer 5g of the prescribed sedative,” he instructed in the same monotone while motioning towards the box clutched in the young man’s hands. “This one is usually calm, but if he shows resistance, call for the guards outside. I’ll be off now,” he excused himself before handing the clipboard to Daehwi and leaving the room. The door shut behind him with the same old grating creaks._

_Jinyoung didn’t think he had any sparks of curiosity left alive to tickle his senses, but he found himself absent-mindedly giving the new nurse a once-over. A young and pretty face, a tad uncommon combination for the medical industry; a lean frame that seemed even smaller in the oversized uniform, a tuft of hair that looked soft even under the distasteful fluorescent lighting, uneven eyelids that became even more evident once the young man met Jinyoung’s curious gaze with borderline confused blinks._

_There weren’t any prerequisites for falters in a purely procedural situation, so the way nurse Lee took a few moments to set aside the equipment he had been clutching and begin awkwardly fumbling with the leather straps hanging from the gurney was refreshing variety from the indifferent silence Jinyoung had become accustomed to._

_The leather was rough from use and easily chaffed skin. Jinyoung had one too many bruises from one too many therapy sessions. The feeling of someone weaving the straps around him was in no way favourable, but at least habit made it less unpleasant than it was intended to be._

_“You’re supposed to make it tighter,” Jinyoung calmly remarked while nurse Lee was working on the clasp of the third strap, the one over Jinyoung’s chest._

_The young man’s hold on the leather straps loosened at the sudden admonishment. “But won’t it be uncomfortable for you that way?”_

_A huff of hollow amusement came in reply. “It’s not like anyone asked me during all the previous times I had to get drugged to hell and back. I’ll be just fine,” he declared with finality as he used whatever limited range of motion he was left with to tug at the edge of the strap over his chest and pull it tighter._

_The exchange rendered nurse Lee speechless for a few thin-stretched seconds. He then wordlessly fastened the remaining leather straps as tight as he could before opening the box he had been carrying earlier. Jinyoung’s eyes followed every movement of the nurse’s hands as they took out a needle, carefully attached it to a syringe full of liquid, and made sure to push all the air out of it._

_“My name is Daehwi,” was the sentence that distracted Jinyoung from the sensation of a needle piercing the skin of his forearm. “I felt like you should know. We’ll probably be seeing each other often from now on,” were the last words to register in Jinyoung’s mind before the anaesthesia kicked in and everything faded into a soft haze of black._

_When the sedatives wore off and Jinyoung’s eyes blinked open to the sight of the bare white ceiling of his isolation cell, he was alone. Once he tried moving his limbs to shake the lingering drowsiness off, he felt that the gurney straps were loosened significantly._

_It was winter and Jinyoung felt the slightest ripples of disappointment at the fact that it was too cold to spend time in the yard of the mental ward._

_Jinyoung was leaning on a windowsill in one of the wider hallways of the facility. He wasn’t even particularly sure which sector of the ward it was located in; all he needed to know was that it had a nice view of the backyard of the premises. The mental ward was secluded, huddled in the dense forest on a hilltop, a few kilometres from the nearest town. The greenery had long withered alongside summer’s rays, but the landscape of elegant tree trunks and entwined branches was pleasant nonetheless._

_His doctor had deduced that the time spent in complete isolation achieved no progress regarding his condition, hence why Jinyoung was then allowed to spend time in common spaces on the premises during certain hours. His therapy schedule changed as well. Compared to the suffocating sense of timelessness in the abnormally tiny cells, the electric shocks weren’t a preferable alternative, but at least they made Jinyoung feel something._

_Jinyoung never quite expected a bright future ahead of himself, but he didn’t quite anticipate the world to be cruel enough to deem love an illness either._

_His sedative intake was increased too._

_“Mind some company?” a voice reached Jinyoung from behind._

_But that only meant he got to see Daehwi more often._

_Jinyoung turned his head to see Daehwi propping himself on the windowpane close by. “Won’t you get in trouble for chatting with patients?” Jinyoung asked. He couldn’t help but notice Daehwi had finally gotten a uniform that fit him properly._

_“Nothing in our policy is against it,” Daehwi replied while letting his eyes roam the bare landscape outside the window. “I get bored too, you know? Most of my colleagues are old and don’t discuss much else than politics or the weather.”_

_“Fair enough,” Jinyoung conceded. “But aren’t you on duty?”_

_Daehwi pulled the best mock-offence pout he could muster while admonishing, “You really sound like you want to get rid of me.”_

_“Just don’t want you to get in trouble,” Jinyoung quietly countered._

_The nurse’s expression immediately shifted into a pleasant smile once he saw Jinyoung lightly duck his head in guilt. “Kidding, kidding. It’s just too early for anything work-related right now. The only ones awake so early are roosters and overthinkers.”_

_Jinyoung and Daehwi had had a reasonable number of encounters in the recent weeks around Jinyoung’s “treatment”. They didn’t, however, involve many words; rather many millilitres of anaesthetic drugs. Their exchanges didn’t usually span farther than Daehwi trying to make therapies less unpleasant for Jinyoung, and Jinyoung attempting to refuse as to not get Daehwi in trouble with other medical staff._

_As they gradually spiralled into a cascade of topics, proper conversation finally came to them light, much needed. A sense of timelessness once again embraced Jinyoung while idle banter was exchanged there, propped on the bare windowsill, but one far more favourable than anything else he had experienced thus far in the mental ward._

_It was spring and Jinyoung was revelling in the feeling of soft blades of grass beneath him._

_Daehwi had played with fire. He had lied to the facility janitors about losing the key to Jinyoung’s room, prompting them to give him a spare. Daehwi had given one of the keys to Jinyoung. A simple lie is how they sometimes, when Daehwi had to stay late in the ward, found themselves outside late at night, when nobody would be awake to find them and the world wouldn’t be able to stop them._

_Their friendship had flourished as easily as the trees in the ward’s yard once the tides of spring enveloped everything in the vicinity in green. Words were casual and sweet, topics were infinite. Daehwi had prattled about nearly every tidbit of his life. He often brought various items from his home to accompany his stories with. He had once even brought a pretty album of family photos, excitedly telling stories about his parents while pointing at their figures in the old photographs._

_“Once you get discharged from here we can both go hunting with my father,” Daehwi had once promised, and profound warmth had simmered in Jinyoung’s chest at the fact that he had been considered as a part of someone’s future._

_Often times, Daehwi would bring a music box to their rendevouz. It would be a different one each time, courtesy of the fact that he had a whole collection at home. When conversations stilled and each other’s presence was more than enough, the gentle melodies fit just right with the sound of leaves rustling in the faint spring winds._

_That’s how they spent that night, quietly admiring the refreshing chill in the air outside, grass tickling them both as Daehwi sat on the ground with his back against a tree, Jinyoung lying in his lap. Daehwi’s fingers were brushing through Jinyoung’s hair in time with the melody from the music box._

_Therapies were taking their toll on Jinyoung. Fading bruises marred each limb of his and he often found his movements to be sluggish, tiring. Drowsiness and hazy vision occasionally crept up without warning. He appreciated when Daehwi would indulge his desire to stay quiet either through another story or with comfortable silence._

_“Jinyoung?” Daehwi spoke up suddenly. Jinyoung hummed in acknowledgement to make him carry on. “I’ve been curious about something. It’s a bit personal, though, so I’m not sure how to ask.”_

_In an attempt at comfort, Jinyoung patted the hand Daehwi was using to card through his hair. “You know I don’t mind. Ask on.”_

_“How did you...” Daehwi began, voice as gentle as a spider web’s thread, “get institutionalized.”_

_The music box’s little key stopped turning and the music faded into the night, leaving Jinyoung and Daehwi under the soft rustles of leaves. “I mean, homosexuality doesn’t exactly have any visible traits,” he elaborated._

_Jinyoung collected his words with one deep inhale. “Not too interesting of a story,” he started after a few long seconds, “There was a boy in the orphanage I was in. We were best friends, we spent all our days together. Sooner or later, it became what you'd call a crush. One day I got the courage to confess, but he didn’t take to my feelings too well and told on me to the orphanage wardens. It all went to hell from there.”_

_A few heavy moments passed of Daehwi merely stoking Jinyoung’s hair while letting everything sink in. “You came from an orphanage?” he chose to focus on._

_“Never knew my parents,” Jinyoung put it simply. He shifted his head so he wouldn’t be looking straight up at Daehwi anymore when he said, “If they’re still alive now they probably wouldn’t even want to know me if they found out about all the medical records I got tacked to my name.”_

_“Hey, hey now-“ Daehwi cupped Jinyoung’s cheeks to grab his attention, “Look at me. You’re nothing but a pleasure to converse and spend time with. Anyone who judges you based on a diagnosis is missing out in the worst way possible.”_

_Jinyoung did turn his gaze to Daehwi. The action didn’t achieve much; Jinyoung’s vision quickly got clouded by tears he hadn’t felt emerging. Once the first one spilled over and trickled down his cheek, many more followed, and muffled sobs soon accompanied them._

_Amidst hiccups and shallow breaths, Daehwi calmly placed a hand over Jinyoung’s eyes. He began softly humming a song, some traditional song from the mountainous regions with a signature melancholic tone. Jinyoung let his vision fade to black as he listened, the teary cascade slowing its flow._

_Maybe that was the feeling people envisioned when they claimed to feel at home._

_It was summer and Jinyoung wore his heart on his sleeve._

_“I love you.” It had slipped out, casual and simple, the same way it had bloomed in Jinyoung’s ribcage over the course of the past seasons._

_They were outdoors again, grass tickling them both as Daehwi sat on the ground with his back against a tree, Jinyoung lying in his lap. Daehwi’s fingers had been brushing through Jinyoung’s hair, but they abruptly stopped their ministrations._

_“What?” Daehwi asked after a few moments disappeared wordless. His voice was the slightest bit shaky._

_“I thought people were being needlessly cheesy when talking about love, but it’s true, words can’t do the feeling justice,” Jinyoung carried on with a voice surprisingly calm. He sat up and turned to face Daehwi properly before continuing, “You’re the most amazing person I’ve known in my laughable life. You’re the only one who has looked at me past all the flaws and shortcomings, and remained kind.” And when he placed his hand atop Daehwi’s with a gentle touch, he repeated with an even gentler tone, “I’m in love with you.”_

_Daehwi’s gaze slowly dropped to the hand atop his own. He was quiet for an awfully long time. When he seemed like he had finally gathered his thoughts again, he looked Jinyoung dead in the eyes with pure devastation pooling at his lids. “Jinyoung, we-“ he tried uttering, voice shakier than before, a lilt away from being frantic, “we can’t. I can’t. I-“_

_Jinyoung’s attention never left Daehwi’s darkening expression; he was fixated on the tears he could see pooling in those eyes he never wished to see sad, thus he could only feel the hand beneath his slipping away. “I’m sorry,” were the last words to reach Jinyoung before the dull and swift thumps of Daehwi’s retreating steps were all that he could hear._

_The tree leaves kept softly rustling to the wind’s every twist and whim, blissfully oblivious to the storm brewing right beneath them._

_In contrast, Jinyoung remained as still as a stone. The stream of time had dried out. Nothing moved. Nothing at all progressed except the thoughts bubbling inside Jinyoung’s head, boiling and rising and, soon enough, overflowing._

_A single chuckle spilled past his lips. A dry, lifeless chuckle. One more followed afterwards. More, and more, until Jinyoung lapsed into full-blown laughter, loud and unhinged. He laughed until his throat was sore and his lungs were aching for him to stop. When Jinyoung was out of air, his laughter lapsed into choked up heaves. He hadn’t felt his eyes sting until long after the first tears had fallen to the ground, soaked up by the careless summer grass._

_Jinyoung lay back down on the ground, this time without the comfort of another person’s warmth to stave the night chills away._

_Jinyoung had stopped paying mind to the languid change of seasons._

_During the following weeks, his therapies had carried on under the supervision of his old nurse, a lady of middle age with as much empathy to spare him as the bare white ceiling of the isolation cell. Jinyoung still sneaked out of his room at night to reach the same sanctuary shrouded by entwined tree branches and whispering leaves. Daehwi never came again._

_As Jinyoung sat surrounded by the soft blades of grass, his mind was blank. There hadn’t really been anything left to think of in the world. Time spent outdoors was no longer discernible from the isolation of the mental ward._

_He was vaguely aware of the punishment he would had warranted had he been caught outside of his room. It didn’t stay as much more than a ghost of a thought at the back of his head._

_The night winds weakly blew at Jinyoung just as they always had, but suddenly, it no longer was the same. A foul scent got carried to the outskirts of the forest. When a sudden fog began swallowing the air, everything made more sense._

_Jinyoung heard it before he saw it. Piercing screams from a distant sector of the mental ward made him abruptly look up at the facility, and the shapeless edges of a fire peeking out from the windows on one of the upper floors were suddenly all he could see. An alarm began blaring inside the building, and the commotion spread in mere cruel moments._

_Frozen, without even a single shiver’s worth of movement, Jinyoung stood stricken and watched. It was only when people began barrelling out of every exit, both patients and employees, status quo and social standing reduced to ashes, did a gut-wrenching realization twist his insides. Amidst the stormy sea of bodies, he never quite saw a familiar tuft of hair. Against the tide of panicked people, Jinyoung ran inside the building._

_Jinyoung had never been to the parts of the ward reserved for staff, but vague recollections of stories and complaints from Daehwi were some hint as far as the basic layout went. He dashed towards the staircase, running to the upper floors with all the strength left in his frail bruised body. The sickly white shade of the walls and floors now seemed a grotesque grey from all the smog and ashes._

_He took two stairs at once, an electrifying mix of terror and adrenalin mapping his every step, but the fire was swifter than him. The large entrance of the upper floor hallway was guarded by flames crawling up all its edges and nooks, it was humanly impossible to traverse. With sheer panic trickling inside his veins and the ashes that clung to and suffocated his lungs, Jinyoung ran back._

_Back to the base floor, Jinyoung wanted to try his luck with the staircase on the other side of the facility, but one glance in that direction told him that the fire had already cut off any and all routes upwards. The violent coughs wracking through his body told him he didn’t have long left inside if he wanted to escape. Without either a choice or hope left, Jinyoung ran back outside._

_By the time he reached a relatively safe distance, his legs felt as if they were about to give out any moment. His breathing was shallow and ragged, though not entirely because of the ashes enveloping him. From a few hundred meters away with eyes wide in disbelief, he watched the flames twist and rage in their own dimension of anger, and the mental ward’s foundations couldn’t do much more than obediently crumble._

_Jinyoung felt no different than the numerous walls and hallways decaying in a rushed death._

_Ignoring the pain roaring in his every muscle, Jinyoung ran once more. He ran, and ran, and ran, away from the ward, away from his thoughts, until he blacked out and even reality couldn’t catch him._

As the carnations serenely lay on the ground, their petals were gently ruffled by the tears sporadically falling upon them. They slipped down the vivid reds and soaked into the ground, slowly disappearing alongside the one they were spilled for.

Jinyoung had been through a lot. Throughout his humble nineteen years on the earth, he had had his freedom, his health, and his youth taken away from him. Maybe, in the grand scheme of the universe, it only made sense that he’d eventually end up where he was then, to have his heart violently ripped out of his ribcage as well.

The name Lee Daehwi was not much more than a few scratches of a chisel atop a gravestone. The thought alone made the pain in Jinyoung’s chest sharpen immensely and made his breaths ragged and agonizing, as if a blade carved the name into his lungs as well. Maybe that way he wouldn’t had forgotten it.

Jinyoung reached a shaky hand towards the gravestone. The moment his fingertips came in contact with the cold stone – a coldness that was the last thing he would ever associate with Daehwi – a shrill scream ripped through his already aching throat. Jinyoung folded into himself and kept screaming until his breath abandoned him to heave in pain. His fingers dug into his palms as his hands tightened into fists; the blood that prickled from his skin rivaled the vibrant carnations.

A profound kind of devastation set his every sense ablaze. It was suffocating.

Just like a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> in literally the last fucking moment while editing this, it dawned upon me... huh... I could've actually created a plausible outcome in which people Don't Die... and all this time I complained about having to kill my bias jvnejnr i'm dumber than daehwi deserves
> 
> this is my first angst! i'm a fluff person so i'm sorry if this felt forced, but the concept has been stuck in my head for months, so I hope I did it even a teeny tiny bit of justice


End file.
